


Merry and Bright

by Powerfulweak



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas Decorations, Christmas fic, Dean and Cas Out-Griswolding eachother, Decoration Competition, Enemies to Friends, Ex wife Lydia, Fights in Costco, Fucking plastic reindeer, Light shows, M/M, Minion hate, Minor sabotage, Single Dad Castiel, Single Dad Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 10:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5494247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Powerfulweak/pseuds/Powerfulweak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With inflatable Minions, fucking reindeer, and a need to out-Griswold each other on their decorations, neighbors Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester are only one Bad Sweater Party away from actually liking each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merry and Bright

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally planned to be part of the Destiel Christmas Minibang under the theme "Decoration Competition", but then the story got away from me and I missed the deadline.
> 
> Many thanks to [JiniZ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JiniZ) for Beta reading and coming up with the summary.

Dust and cobwebs fly up into the air as Castiel lifts a box over a container marked “toys”. He shifts around, setting the box down in an empty space and wiping at his forehead with the corner of his shirt. Thanks to the top-notch insulation he’d insisted on, The attic is sweltering, even as the cooler weather sets in. There’s a tickle in his nose and he sneezes, sending another plume of dust into the air. He'd meant to clean up here a dozen times before, but some other chore or obligation always seemed to get in the way. His eyes sting and his nose itches from all of the debris and he’s dying to take a break, but he promised himself he’d finish unloading the Christmas decorations before Claire got home.

Castiel hugs a box to his chest, “Lights” scrawled across it in magic marker, and slowly descends the precarious attic stairs. He sets it to the side of the growing pile of boxes just outside the door and climbs back into the attic for more.

“Dad?” Claire’s voice echoes up the stairs.

“Up here,” he calls out. He tucks another box underneath his arm and exits the attic just as Claire comes up the steps.

“Uh… What’s all this stuff?” She asks, examining the pile of boxes stacked in the hallway.

“Christmas decorations,” Castiel replies, setting the last box down and flashing a toothy smile. Claire glances at the pile and then to her dad.

“It’s not even the tenth yet?,” she replies flatly. She gives Castiel the look which he has dubbed the “you’re an idiot, dad” stare. Castiel chuckles and brushes a few stray cobwebs and dust motes from his clothes.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but I figured I’d get an early start on organizing, maybe undo some of the knots in the light strings, make sure everything works…” He trails off, giving a hopeful shrug.

"Why?" Claire asks after a moment, brow furrowing, which Castiel recognizes from his own expression.

"I don't know," he mumbles, much less confident in his actions than he was a few minutes ago. "Just thought it might be fun to make the house festive. We used to this for Christmas every year?" A flicker of pain flashes across Claire's face and is gone just as quickly. Castiel instantly regrets bridging the topic; Christmas had always been Amelia's thing.

Claire gives a vague shrug. “I guess,” she says, giving no indication of her feelings. She picks up her bag and turns down the hallway.

“Dinner will be ready at six,” Castiel calls after her as she heads to her room. She blindly waves back at him before shutting her door behind her. Castiel sighs and rubs at his eyes, pushing up his glasses. He knew this wasn't going to be easy, being a single dad to a teenage girl, but the least he could do was make Christmas a happy memory.

Last Christmas still bore the shadow of Amelia’s death, both of them still mourning the loss of their wife and mother even as they opened gifts. Castiel had thought the move would be good for the both of them by providing a fresh start, but Claire had only become more withdrawn. Even the therapist she went to every other week seemed to hit a brick wall with her.

This Christmas was Castiel's Hail Mary attempt at reconnecting with his daughter before he was relegated to a permanent eye roll.

Castiel opens the top box finding a mass of yellowed tissue paper and a porcelain angel. He smiles when he sees it; it had always been Claire and Amelia's tradition to place it on top of the tree together. He carefully sets the box aside and begins digging through the rest, pulling out strands of lights and decorations.

Christmas was going to be amazing this year. It has to be.

 

Dean peeks through his blinds, watching his next-door neighbor move boxes in and out of his garage. Dean frowns and glances at his wall calendar. It’s not even Thanksgiving Day yet and this guy is already pulling out his Christmas decorations? Lattice-like plastic reindeer sit askew next to flattened nylon inflatables. Dean smirks to himself, watching as the guy attempts to pull a tangled mess lights out from under something but instead snaps the cord in the process.

“Dean?” A voice snaps at him through the phone. “Dean, are you still there?”

“Uh, yeah,” Dean stammers, coming back into the present. “Yeah, I’m here, Lydia.”

“So, I’m planning on buying the plane tickets for the girls today,” Lydia says. “They don’t get out of school until the 18th, but Emma has a School dance on the 19th . Would you rather pick them up on a Sunday night or Monday?”

“You know, I could always drive out and get them,” Dean reminds his ex-wife. “I have no problem doing that.”

“Unlike you, the kids love flying,” Lydia says. “And I don’t think either of them want to be stuck in that old car of yours for ten hours straight.”

“Sam and I did it all the time as kids,” Dean argues, pacing around his kitchen. “It would be good for them. Builds memories and character.”

“Your daughters have plenty of character, Dean. I think anymore would drive us both batty,” Lydia points out. Frankly, Dean can’t disagree. “And David and I don’t mind flying the girls out, you know that.” Dean grimaces at the mention of Lydia’s new husband. It’s not that he has an issue with the guy; his relationship with Lydia ended long before David came into the picture. He was always pleasant the few times he’s answered the phone when Dean’s called. Something about the man rubs Dean the wrong way, though; just because Emma and Amara live with him for 9 months out of the year doesn’t mean he’s more their dad then Dean is.

“Yeah, ok,” Dean mutters. “Are Emma or Amara around? Can I talk to them real quick.” He hears Lydia calling for the girls and shuffled movement as the phone is passed over.

“Hey Dad!” Emma says. “What’s going on?”

“Not much, just wanted to say hi,” Dean says as he leans against the sink. He catches sight once more of the neighbor who is now trying to patch up a plastic reindeer, and snorts a soft laugh.

“Well, hi,” Emma answers awkwardly. “Was that all?” Dean rolls his eyes

“I want to talk to you,” he says. “What’s going on? How was school today?”

“It was fine,” she says. “We’re doing a production of ‘Midsummer Night’s Dream’ and I got cast as the Amazon Queen, Hippolyta.”

“She’s a hippo!” Dean hears Amara giggling the background, followed by Emma hissing “shut up.”

“That sounds awesome, Em,” Dean says. “Maybe I should drive out and see it.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Emma insists. “I’m only in like ten minutes, anyway. It would be kind of a waste to drive all this way.” Dean frowns at her response. He’d gladly drive all night to see her show; it would never be a waste.

“Well, I’ll be the judge on that,” Dean says. “Just say the word and I’m there.”

“Can I talk to dad?” Amara asks. There’s more shuffling as Emma hands the phone to her sister. “Hey, Dad!”

“Hi Amara,” Dean grins involuntarily as he speaks to his 9-year-old. “What’s going on with you, sweetie? Are you excited to spend Christmas with me and Uncle Sam?” Dean tries to tamp down the excitement in his voice. This will be the first Christmas in three years he’ll be spending with the girls and he can hardly wait.

“Yeah, I’m excited,” Amara answers. “I’m a little sad we’re going to miss all the lights though.”

“Lights?”

“David lights up the whole house every year and the whole neighborhood is there and we all put out luminaries,” Amara explains. “It’s amazing!” Dean’s brow furrows and he looks outside once more, the neighbor now crouched over an inflatable and trying to figure out an air pump.

“Oh, really?” Dean says, “Well that does sound awesome.”

“It is!” Amara emphasizes. “Oooh, can we put up lights at your house? Please?”

“Well, I think that can be arranged,” Dean says, opening his fridge and grabbing out a beer. Lydia’s voice can be heard in the distance, calling the girls for dinner.

“Gotta go, Dad,” Amara rushes out. Dean says his hurried goodbyes and hangs up. He opens the door from the kitchen to the garage and steps inside. His few meager boxes of Christmas decorations sit on the top corner of one of the heavy, metal shelves.

Dean takes a long pull off the beer bottle. “Guess we’re doing this.” he mumbles to himself. His own father never took the time to decorate any of the houses they’d lived in growing up, but that doesn’t mean Dean can’t start the tradition now. His daughters deserve the most awesome Christmas Dean can provide, and if that means decorating the shit out of his house (and kicking David’s house’s ass in the process), he’s willing to do it.

 

It takes a long time for Dean to go through the assorted boxes of decorations. They were almost all leftovers that Bobby and Ellen pawned off on him when they moved down to Boca and Dean had never felt the need to look through them. He’s pleasantly surprised to see he has a lot more than he expected with only minor repairs needed.

He drags the boxes out onto his front lawn, whistling as he surveys the area; his yard is big enough that he can set up some displays in addition to lighting the trim of the house. As he turns to get his ladder from the garage, he notices something out of the corner of his eye- A 5-foot tall inflatable Minion sits on the south edge of his lawn, just bordering his neighbor’s house. Dean frowns and walks toward it.

“Alright, dude, you don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here,” Dean mutters as he unsuccessfully tries to push the Minion off of his property. The smiling inflatable happily shifts side to side but doesn’t budge. Dean hunkers down to gain some leverage , pushing again but lower this time. Once again, it stays put.

Dean’s nostrils flare in frustration. He bends downs, trying to get a hold of the inflatable and maybe picking him up. Unfortunately, the smooth nylon form slips from his grip.

“How the fuck are you so difficult to move?” Dean grunts. “You’re just filled with air!” He looks down and notices four metal stakes holding it in place. He mentally kicks himself as he reaches down for the first one.

“Excuse me? What are you doing?” Dean jerks his head up to see his neighbor walking in his direction. His eyes are bright and focused and he looks flushed with exertion, like he’s been working. There’s a sheen of sweat across his brow and dark hair is stuck to his forehead. It takes Dean a minute to find his words, disarmed by the intense stare zeroed in on him.

“I’m, uh, moving your Facebook meme here off of my lawn,” Dean says when he finally finds his voice, throwing his thumb toward the inflatable. The neighbor eyes from Dean to the Minion to the grass.

“He’s not on your lawn,” he says stiffly. “Please don’t touch him, he’s-”

“Actually, he _is_ on my lawn,” Dean corrects.

“My property goes two feet past the the tree line,” he says, pointing to pair of young maple trees. “I was very adamant with my realtor on this fact.”

“Look, buddy-”

“Castiel.”

“What?” Dean asks.

“I’m not your buddy,” the neighbor replies. “My name is Castiel.” Dean takes a deep, calming breath.

“Look, _Castiel…_ I don’t know what to tell you,” Dean says, holding up his hands. “I know you’re new here and all, but I can promise you that your property does not go past the tree line. I should know, I planted those trees.” Castiel’s brow furrows and his mouth turns into an angry flat line.

“My realtor said-”

“Look I don’t care what your realtor said.” Dean raises his voice. “Just get your tacky-ass Minion off my lawn.” Castiel’s blue eyes go wide before narrowing in anger.

“It. Is. _Adorable_ ,” he hisses out before turning and stomping away. Dean stands there for a moment, unsure of what to do.

“I’m moving this,” he calls out, but receives no response. He leans down and rips each metal stake from the dirt before moving the minion back onto the neighboring lawn.

 

Castiel is livid for the rest of the afternoon. How dare that man call his Minion tacky? That was always Amelia and Clare’s favorite. And what kind of assbutt just comes over and starts messing with someone else’s Christmas decorations. How would he like it if Castiel came over and began pulling down all of his lights because he thought they were tacky?

He manages to calm himself down in time for dinner, not wanting to bother Claire with the issue. He’d almost forgotten about the whole matter until the moment he steps outside to put out a trash bag and notices a strand of lights running through the grass between his and the neighbor’s yard.

“What the…” Castiel’s eyes fall on a yard sign stuck in the frozen ground, big block letters written across it - “No Minions allowed beyond this point” is reads.

Castiel and glares up toward his neighbor’s house. “Oh, real mature,” he yells out, muttering “asshole” under his breath. “Some people, I swear.”

 

“You… Shook me all night long…Yeah, you… Shook me all night long,” Dean sings along to the radio, careful not to move too much on the ladder as he strings lights around the eaves of the house. Slowly but surely, the whole place is coming together and, since he put up his light barrier, there’s been no more Minion invasions onto his lawn.

He winds the string of light around the last nail and descends the ladder to look over his work.

“Dean! Hey, Dean!” He turns to see Donna and Jody coming down the sidewalk with their corgis bouncing along ahead of them.

“Hey there, ladies.” Dean gives a friendly wave.

“Well, would you look at this!” Donna exclaims, stopping and staring up at Dean’s house. “You’re really pulling out all of the stops, huh?” Dean gives a false-modest shrug.

“Well, I can’t let you two have the best house on the block,” he jokes.

“Please, we’re not even decorating this year,” Jody pipes up, reaching into her jacket and pulling out a bag of treats. “My back won’t allow it.” The dogs happily spin and yip until Jody drops a treat in front of each of them.

“And she doesn’t trust me up the ladder,” Donna laughs, elbowing Jody lightly. “Looks like Castiel might give you a run for your money, though.” Dean blinks in confusion for a moment before he realizes she’s talking about the Minion neighbor.

“Oh yeah, um, I guess,” he mumbles, not sparing a look at the other house, itself decked out in lights.

“Oh, by the way.” Donna reaches into her pocket and produces a small white envelope. “As always, we’re having a party on the 19th. This year’s theme is ‘Ugly Sweaters’, so come dressed appropriately. We mean it, too. Best ugly sweater wins. ” Dean takes the invitation and offers a genuine smile.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he says as he tucks the invitation into his back pocket. “Need me to bring anything?”

“Just bring your smiling face, Dean,” Jody says. “But we won’t turn down good beer, either.” She offers Dean a friendly wink. Dean makes a mental note to bring a case of that nice IPA Jody likes.

“Of course.” Dean says, waving them goodbye as they continue walking their dogs down the street. He turns back to his decorations, glancing between the lights he has left and the what remains on the house.

“Yeah, I think this will work,” he says to himself with a satisfied nod, “This will look really good.”

 

Castiel shivers in the cold night air as he circles the house, double checking switches and outlets and making sure all electrical connections are intact and ready. Claire stands in the center of the front yard as instructed, visibly shivering.

“You doing ok, honey?” Castiel calls out. Claire’s face remains deadpan, but she flashes a thumbs up. He checks one last cord, feeling satisfied with his work, before jogging to meet toward her.

“You ready for this?’ He asks, practically bouncing with excitement.

“How much longer do we have to stay out here?” Claire asks, he voices muffled as she puffs hot air onto her hands. Castiel pushes back the sleeve of his parka and checks his watch.

“Well, If I timed everything correctly, it should all start…. now,” he points toward the house dramatically, but everything remains unlit. “Ok… now!” He tries again, but still, nothing happens. Castiel gives a petulant grunt. “Huh. I wonder if I had the timer set to am instead of- _Whoa_!” The house explodes in sparkling light as everything switches on at once. Claire jumps in surprise, her eyes going wide and a wondrous smile stretching across her face.

“Oh my God!” She gasps, pressing her hands to her mouth in excitement. “Dad, this is... this is amazing! You did all this?” She looks up at Castiel in awe and he can’t help preening a little at the approval.

“Sure did,” he says, planting his hands on his hips proudly. “You like it?” Claire throws her arms around her father’s waist in response, squeezing him tight.

“It’s just like we used to have,” she says. Castiel beams and presses a kiss to the back of her head.

“Glad you like it, Kiddo,” he says. “Merry Christmas.”

 

“So the girls are supposed to get here on the 21st,” Dean says, opening his fridge and grabbing out a couple beers for him and Sam. The microwave goes off and he carefully extracts the piping hot bag of popcorn from inside.

“That late?” Sam calls from the den, where he is no doubt fiddling with the blu-ray player.

“Yeah, they have some school thing on Saturday.” Dean dumps the popcorn into a bowl. “I guess that was the next earliest flight Lydia could get for them.” He spins around and grabs a pack of licorice from the cupboard, expressly bought for his and Sam’s movie nights.

“Will you have enough time to see mom and dad?” Sam asks.

“‘Course we will,” Dean assures, gathering all the snacks and drinks into his arms. “We’re just going to have to make it a one night visit, rather than two. I was thinking it might be fun to have Christmas here anyway- Sam, what are you doing?” He descends the steps into the den to see his brother stooped down and peering out of his blinds.

“Checking out your neighbor’s house,” Sam mumbles. “His lights are amazing.” Dean frowns and sets the snacks on the coffee table as he comes up behind Sam.

“Let me see,” he says, tapping him on the shoulder. Dean moves forward and parts the blinds, staring out the window to his neighbor’s house ( _Castiel_ , Dean reminds himself).

He stifles back an audible gasp at the sight; blue and white icicle lights hang from the eaves and window boxes, flashing intermittently. Large lit snowflakes decorate the front of the house, framing the windows, garage and roof. The yard features both a small herd of lit, animated reindeer and a snowman inflatable, happily waving to the rest of the neighborhood. Dean smirks, noticing that the guy didn’t include the Minion.

“Wow, That must’ve taken a lot of work, huh?” Sam asks, peeking above Dean’s head. Dean’s expression falters when he considers how his own paltry decorations will compare with this guy’s. He has what... a couple strings of lights around the roof and an old plastic Santa on the lawn? How is that going to compare to fucking moving reindeer.

“Yeah, I guess it’s ok,” Dean replies bitterly. “I hope he plans on turning those off before going to bed. If that’s going to be shining in my bedroom window all damn night he’s definitely going to hear about it.” Sam turns to look at him, giving him an epic bitchface.

“God, you are such a Scrooge,” he mutters, shaking his head. Dean stares at his brother, aghast.

“Excuse me, I am the jolliest motherfucker in existence,” Dean replies in mock offense. “I just don’t want someone’s light show keeping me up all night.” Dean steps away, letting the blinds clap shut.

“C’mon, Sam, movie time.” He flops down in his seat and kicks the his feet up on the coffee table. Sam grabs the remote and hits play as he settles down next to him. Dean picks up the pack of licorice and tears it open, plucking a rope from the package with his teeth.

He tries to focus on the movie, but the entire time, Dean’s mind whirs with how he can make his own Christmas lights better than Castiel’s

 

Castiel doesn’t even catch it at first.

Oh, sure, he saw that his Minion-hating neighbor had set up his own lights and display, but he didn’t think anything of it. Slowly, though, he begins to notice that his decorations are… growing. Lights line every edge of the house now and a fence of illuminated candy canes surround his yard. The meager Christmas decorations have been replaced in the yard as well; A family of lit, plastic polar bears now sit next to the Christmas tree, itself more heavily decorated than before.

Castiel knows he’s probably being ridiculous, but he can’t help feel that the increase in decorations is a slight against _him_. He tries not to think about the matter, but soon finds himself back at Lowes, stocking up on more lights and novelties.

 

Dean scowls at Castiel’s house. The nerve of this guy! Right after Dean set up his candy cane fence, a border of glowing snowflakes appeared around Castiel’s yard. This guy is copying him!

“Well, two can play at that game,” Dean mutters, hoisting the the bundle of lights under his arm and ascending the ladder.

 

Now Castiel _knows_ he’s not imagining things.

This guy is definitely trying to one-up his decorations. Lit stars decorate the front of his house in a similar fashion to Castiel’s. Lights line the top of the roof, chimney, and the trees separating their yards. The sheer amount of lights, and the arrangement, is stunning, if a bit blinding.

“Dad?” Claire calls from the front door. “What are you doing?” Her eyes narrow at him curiously; it’s the same look Amelia used to give him when she caught him in the kitchen, talking to himself like he was hosting his own cooking show.

“Uh... Nothing, Claire,” Castiel lies. “Go back inside. I’ll be inside in just a few minute.” Claire gives him one last strange look, but disappears back into the house and closes the door. Castiel glares at his neighbor’s house; time to pull out the big guns.

He opens his garage to get the Minion inflatable.

 

The competition between Castiel and the neighbor continues to grow. Castiel gets a righteous little thrill when he hears a high-pitched scream followed by a string of curses coming from his neighbor’s front porch, where he happily parked the Minion early that morning. The next day however, Castiel walks outside to see a plastic reindeer orgy on his front lawn. He doesn’t have to guess who was responsible.

Their rivalry is truly a cold war, though. They never acknowledge it or even confront each other; just shoot dirty looks across their yards and participate in minor sabotage.

 

With all the work he’s been putting into decorating, most other holiday tasks have slipped Castiel’s mind. It’s not until Claire asks what he’s planning on sending to his mother that he realizes he forgot about buying gifts (except, of course, for Claire’s; her laptop was purchased months ago). They bundle up and head out to Costco for last-minute shopping.

“Ok, so who are we shopping for?” Castiel asks as he slowly pushes the cart through the jam-packed aisles. “Let’s see, we’ve got your Grandmother, Gabriel, Hannah- Ooooh, Look!” A display catches his eye and he twists the cart toward it.

“Daaaad, really?” Claire gives an exasperated whine. “Don’t you have enough lights? I thought we were here looking for gifts?”

“We are, we are,” Castiel mumbles, grabbing several boxes of lights and setting them in the cart. “We just… need these… too.” Claire looks at her father anxiously.

“Dad, the house looks great. All the decorations are awesome,” she says. “But you’re getting way too into this.”

“But you love Christmas,” Castiel says.

“Yeah, I do,” Her voice rises in frustration. “But this… _thing_ is all about your stupid obsession with our neighbor!”

“Lower your voice.” Castiel tries to put an authoritarian air into his tone, but it falls flat. “I am not obsessed.”

“You forgot to buy presents, Dad! It’s almost Christmas and you forgot to buy presents,” Claire points out. “Why are you getting so caught up in…” She waves her hands in the air, trying to find the word. “Outdoing our neighbor?” Castiel opens his mouth to answer but before he can, the box of lights under his arm is snatched away.

“What the Hell?” Castiel spins around, his expression hardening when he sees his neighbor holding the box. “You!” He lunges forward to grab hold of the item, but it’s jerked out of his reach.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the neighbor asks, holding the box at arms length.

“Those are mine.” He scrambles between carts and jumps for the box. “Give them back.”

“The Hell they are!” the neighbor argues. “You’ve got like... four boxes in your cart.”

“I was holding that one,” Castiel huffs. “You stole it out of my hand.”

“Dean, man, c’mon.” A taller man behind him says. “Give the guy his lights back.”

“No,” Dean says firmly, holding up a hand to the tall man, his eyes still locked on Castiel’s. “This guy is squirreling away every light in the store, won’t even give up one box.”

“I need them,” Castiel insists.

“So do I!” Dean argues. Castiel feels Claire’s hands wrap around his arm, pulling him away.

“Dad, let’s just go!” she says, “We’ll just grab some gift cards. It’ll be fine.” Castiel doesn’t budge; instead, he dives forward suddenly, grabbing hold of the box.

“Let go!” Dean shouts, trying to tug it back.

“You… Let… Go,” Castiel struggles to keep his grip, planting his foot on a palette display for leverage.

“Dad! Stop!” Claire yells.

“Would both of you fucking cut it out!” the taller man shouts, trying to wedge himself between the two men. He grabs hold of the box and wrenches it out of both of their hands. Castiel’s foot slips of the palette and he stumbles backward, causing him to slam into another display and sending dozens of grapefruits tumbling to the floor.

“You asshole!” Castiel shouts out. For the first time he notices the crowd of people that has formed, watching the two of them fight it out in the middle of Costco. He sees Claire in the mix, eyes brimming with tears, before she turns and bolts from the store.

“Claire?” Castiel rights himself and pushes past the mass of people. “Claire!” He runs after her, out the store.

 

Dean grins triumphantly, snatching the box from Sam and dropping it into his cart.

“Awesome. Got the lights. Let’s get out of here and grab-” Sam cuts him off with a exasperated head shake.

“You can be such a douchebag sometimes,” he mutters, pushing past Dean and out of sight.

 

Castiel taps on his daughter’s bedroom door. “Claire?” he asks quietly. “Claire, sweetie, I have dinner ready in the kitchen.” There’s no answer, but that doesn’t surprise him.

Since leaving Costco yesterday, Claire’s been giving him the silent treatment. As soon as they arrived home, she raced up to her room, slamming the door behind her. Castiel thought she might sleep off her anger with him, but he was still persona non-grata at breakfast the next morning. She didn’t even say goodbye as she grabbed her bag and left for the bus. Castiel watched her leave, something about his daughter’s icy behavior so similar to Amelia’s post-fight. He hoped maybe 24 hours would at least put them on speaking terms so they could talk about it, but the silent treatment continued as soon as she stepped inside the house that afternoon.

“Claire,” Castiel takes hold of the doorknob in the off-chance it’s unlocked, but no luck. “Claire, please open up. I want to talk.” There’s a shuffle of movement from behind the door.

“Go away,” Claire says, her voice muffled through the door. _Well, that’s some progress_ , Castiel thinks.

“Claire. Honeybee,” Castiel pleads, using her childhood nickname. “Please come on out. I am very sorry about what happened in the store. You had a lot of good things to say and I… I apologize.” He pauses, waiting for a response, but none comes. Castiel checks his watch; it’s quarter ‘til eight. He’s already late for the party at the Mill-Hanscum’s house. He’d been hoping to get Claire out of her room so they could go together, but it looked like that was a bust.

Castiel debates not going to the party. He was actually looking forward to this event and a chance to meet some more of his neighbors, outside of Jody and Donna and that jackass Dean. He doesn’t really like the idea of leaving Claire alone for a long period of time, but she is a smart girl and very responsible for her age. Maybe just an hour.

“Claire?” Castiel taps on the door again. “Are you sure you don’t want to come to Jody and Donna’s house with me? I can stay home instead if you like.” There is a long span of silence before another voice comes from within the room.

“Just go,” she says. Castiel’s brow furrows in concern, but he knows that any more pushing is just going to drive her further away. Right now, Claire needs space.

Castiel retreats down the stairs to the living room. He checks himself in the mirror once, removing a stray piece of lint from his ugly sweater and grabs a bottle of wine off the rack.

“I’m heading out,” he calls up the stairs. “Keep the door locked and if you need anything or want me to come home, just call or text me, alright?” Claire doesn’t answer, but Castiel knows she understands. He slips on his peacoat and steps out the front door, locking it behind him. He carefully walks down the icy sidewalk toward the Mills-Hanscum home.

 

“Castiel! Welcome!” Donna greets as she opens the door. “Come on in. Take your shoes off, relax, we’re just getting started with the cocktails.” Castiel shakes off the cold as he removes his coat and hands it to her.

“I brought wine,” he says, holding up the bottle.

“Oooh.” Donna takes it from him and reads the label. “Well, this looks nice. Thank you, Castiel. On your own tonight?” she looks at him with interest as she sets his coat on a hook.

“Uh, yeah. Claire wasn’t really feeling well.” He lies.

“Oh, poor dear,” Donna replies with a sympathetic frown. “I’ll make sure to pack her a plate of goodies for when she’s feeling better.” Castiel gives her a grateful smile and toes off his shoes by the door. He steps into the living room where several guests are already mingling.

The house is beautifully decorated for the holidays, with evergreen garlands winding around the banisters and along every doorway. A massive tree sits in the center of the living room, covered in twinkling lights and casting everything in a warm glow. Castiel moves through towards the bar at the back of the room. He picks through the bottles, examining labels, and eventually deciding on a bourbon and coke.

He takes a tentative sip of his drink and scans the crowd of vaguely familiar faces. In the short time they’ve lived here, Castiel has briefly met most of the neighborhood, but if he were asked to place names with faces, he’d be lost. He smiles when he spots Charlie, the vibrant young lady who lives on the corner, and start in her direction.

“Castiel, hey!” She says, waving excitedly as she approaches him. “I didn't think you were going to come. I never see you at things like this.” He gives a small shrug.

“Well, Jody invited me in person and I gave my word,” he says, grabbing a canapé off of a nearby tray.

“Well, we’re glad you did. I always love getting to know our neighbors.” A dark-haired woman in slacks and a blouse sidles up to Charlie. “You've met my better half, right? Dorothy, this is Castiel. Castiel, Dorothy.” The woman reaches out, giving Castiel a painfully firm handshake.

“You're the one with the Christmas decorations, right?” she asks.

“One of the ones,” Charlie corrects. “It's neck and neck with him and… Oh, Hey Dean!” Castiel eyes go wide as he turns around to see Dean the Christmas Light Thief walking towards them, all swagger and friendly grin. He’s dressed in red sweater, covered in tiny white polka dots, with the words “Merry Christmas Ya Filthy Animal” written across it in large letters.

“Hey Charlie, Dorothy.” He leans forward and gives both women brief hugs. As he steps back, he notices Castiel and his smile falters.

“Dean, you know Castiel, right?” Charlie asks.

“We've met,” Castiel says stiffly.

“Yeah, Cas and I are right next door to each other,” Dean adds. Castiel flinches at the shortening of his name; he’s never liked nicknames.

“You guy’s decorations are frakkin’ amazing,” Charlie gushes. “Like I've seen people from other neighborhoods driving through and taking pictures. I'll be surprised if the local paper hasn't gotten photos yet.” Dean shrugs and Castiel looks away, reddening with embarrassment. He'd never set up he lights for attention; it had all only been for-

“Hey, did you bring your daughter with you tonight?” Charlie asks, interrupting his train of thought, and glancing around the room. “Where’s Claire?”

“Sick,” Castiel repeats his lie.

“Aww, that's too bad,” Charlie says. “Last time I saw her, we were talking about Daredevil and I wanted to know if she'd finished the season yet.” Castiel grimaces; he does not understand anything Charlie is referring to and it makes him feel like even more of a failure as a dad.

“I think Dean’s girls are about Claire’s age,” Dorothy adds. “How old are Emma and Amara now?” Castiel looks at Dean, surprised by this information.

“You've got kids?” He asks. Castiel had never seen any sign of anyone but Dean at his house and occasionally the other tall man from Costco.

“Yeah,” Dean replies briefly. “They're 13 and 9. They, um… live with their mom most of the time.” He shrugs with his explanation.

“But they're coming for Christmas, right?” Charlie asks.

“Yep, they are flying in in two days,” Dean answers, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Well, you’ve got to bring them by sometime,” Charlie says. She turns to Castiel. “Maybe you can bring Claire as well. We’ll make a girls’ day of it.” Castiel looks at her and then glances at Dean, unsure of how to respond.

Someone calls Charlie and Dorothy’s names from across the room and the two women bid them short goodbyes before departing, leaving Dean and Castiel on their own. There is a long awkward pause before Castiel breaks the silence and clears his throat.

“So … Uh, two girls, huh? I didn’t even realize that you had kids,” Dean nods.

“Yeah, well, they only stay here when school’s out,” he offers. “Summers and Spring Break, y’know.”

“They were here this summer?” Castiel asks. Was he that oblivious?

“No, they, uh… “ Dean hesitates and stirs his straw in his drink. “My oldest, Emma, had soccer camp or something and Amara didn’t want to come without her sister. That’s why they are here for Christmas. This year’s kind of a jumble on the custody front, you know how it is.” Dean offers an easy smile, his green eyes crinkling at the corner and making his whole face light up. Castiel smiles in response until he catches Dean’s implication.

“I, uh, don’t actually,” Castiel replies, his expression going somber. “I’m not divorced. My wife passed away a little over a year ago.” Castiel awkwardly takes a sip of his drink. He doesn’t like talking about Amelia’s death with other people. It always brings conversations to a grinding halt, and he has to spend several minutes dealing with pity in people’s eyes.

“Oh. Oh shit, man.” Realization crashes over Dean. “I’m sorry, I… I had no idea.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Castiel waves his hand dismissively

“You’ve never mentioned anything about it,” Dean says. Castiel narrows his eyes and gives Dean a curious look.

“We’ve never really had a conversation,” Castiel points out. “Besides fighting about decorations.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Dean replies awkwardly with a stiff laugh. “Probably an awful way to meet your neighbors, to be honest.”

“Understatement,” Castiel agrees. “And even so, It’s not something I talk about a lot. Kind of a hard thing to bridge in conversation. ‘Hello, I’m Castiel Novak, I’m 36, I’m a Virgo, and I have a dead wife.’” It’s strange talking about this with someone who is essentially a stranger, but somehow Castiel feels very at ease divulging this information to Dean. Maybe it's the way Dean doesn't offer sympathetic looks or empty platitudes.

“Dean Winchester.” Dean raises his hand like he's at an AA meeting. “also 36, Aquarius, and I haven’t had a serious relationship since my divorce.” He offers Castiel a friendly smile, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as he does. A slight flush rises to Dean’s cheeks. Castiel assumes it must be from the alcohol, but it only makes Dean look more attractive. If he didn’t know better, Castiel could swear he was being flirted with and the prospect sends an electric bolt of panic up his spine.

He’s not even sure he knows how to flirt anymore.

“I can’t imagine having two daughters,” Castiel finally croaks out after an extended span of silence. “I can barely keep up with my one.” Dean gives a heavy exhale he nods in agreement.

“Tell me about it,” Dean mutters. “Has, uh... Claire, is it? Has she made you go to a Sephora yet?” Castiel’s brows furrow.

“No.” Castiel shakes his head. “What is that?”

“It’s an assault on the senses,” Dean says. “It’s makeup and beauty shit that costs more than my house payment.”

“Oh my God,” Castiel replies, aghast.

Dean holds up a hand. “Ok, ok, that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but not by much,” he explains. “Last time they were here, Emma pulled me in there, and she knew what everything was! I had no idea she was even wearing makeup yet. I mean, she’s not even in high school!” Castiel can definitely sympathize. Claire discovered kohl eyeliner a few months ago and now it was part of her morning routine to make herself look like a raccoon before she left the house.

“I don’t know.” Dean continues, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, a gesture Castiel finds impossibly attractive for some strange reason. “Emma can do her own thing, y’know? I don’t want to… stifle anything, but what kind of Dad would I be if I wasn’t even a little bit concerned.” Castiel hums in agreement and takes a sip of his drink. A clock chimes and he looks up to see it’s already 9 pm. Even though he knows she’s just in her room, Castiel begins to get anxious about getting back to Claire. He looks back at Dean, who is watching Castiel with warm, green eyes.

“You know, we’re right next door to each other,” Dean says. “Maybe when Emma and Amara get here, we can all get together. I know the girls kind of get bored just being around me.” Castiel gives a distracted nod.

“Yes, we might be able to do that,” Castiel says, his eyes darting to the clock once more. He sets his drink down on a coaster. “It’s getting kind of late, isn’t it?” Dean glances around in confusion.

“The party just started,” he says.

“Yeah, I know but…” He sighs. “Claire’s alone. I really need to get back home.” Dean expression falls, and for a moment Castiel thinks he almost looks disappointed.

“Yeah, of course, of course,” Dean says with a forced grin.

“It was… nice talking to you, Dean,” Castiel says. In truth, it was far more than just nice. When he’s not laser-focused on Christmas decorations, Dean is actually good company ( _not bad on the eyes, either,_ Castiel notes). He bids his hosts goodbye and darts out the door unnoticed, walking back through the snow.

He returns home to find the lights still on and Claire asleep on the couch, watching the old “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” cartoon. Castiel debates waking her so she can sleep in her room, but changes his mind at the last minute. He grabs a thick blanket off the back of the sofa and throws it over her, then grabs the remote to turn off the TV.

“Goodnight, kiddo.” Castiel plants a soft kiss on her head before switching off the living room lights and walking upstairs.

 

Castiel can’t sleep. Between thinking of ways to apologize to Claire and Dean Winchester’s change in personality, his mind is far too active to settle down. He rubs at his eyes and closes the book in front of him, setting it on the nightstand as he gets out of bed.

He goes downstairs, careful not to disturb a still-sleeping Claire in the living room. He flips on the light above the sink and turns on the electric kettle, a low thrum rattling from it as it begins to heat up. Castiel searches through his tins and picks out his favorite Vanilla Lavender blend; maybe a nice cup of tea will relax him.

A squawk of feedback from outside abruptly breaks the peace of the evening, followed by a long string of curses. Castiel moves to the window and looks out to see Dean Winchester sitting in his snowy front yard, fumbling with what looks like an ancient stereo system and a set of speakers.

“What the hell?” Castiel mumbles in disbelief. He glances at the clock on the stove reading 12:30 a.m. Castiel shakes his head; he’s had enough of this. Forgetting about his tea, he tiptoes past the living room to the front door. He throws on his coat and switches out his slippers for actual shoes. Opening the door, he steps out into the frosty night air.

 

An electric shock pricks Dean’s fingers and he gasps in pain. “Motherfucker!” he curses, shaking his hand. This is just a stupid stereo, it should not be this complicated, especially not for Dean _“I-can-dismantle-a-combustible-engine-with-my-eyes-closed”_ Winchester.

With fumbling, numb fingers, Dean inserts an AV cable, but jumps when the sudden screech of feedback blares from the speaker.

“Sunuvabitch!” Dean yells, jerking the cable out. He growls in frustration and scrubs a hand over his face. What is he even doing out here? He glances back at Castiel’s house and sighs.

Dean wants to blame this entire mess on Castiel, but he just can’t. Cas was decorating out of the Christmas spirit; it had nothing to do with having the biggest display or being the best in the neighborhood or one-upping _David_.

Dean feels like the worst kind of holiday douchebag. Who steals someone else’s lights and gets into a screaming match in a big box store? Him, apparently. He turns back to the speakers, scrubbing a hand over his face in exasperation.

There is a soft sound of snow crunching behind him. “Dean?” he turns around to see Castiel walking toward him in a wool peacoat and a pair of flannel pajama pants. “Dean, What are you doing out here? It’s past midnight.” Dean stares at Castiel for a minute, at a loss for how to answer. His hair is sleep-mussed and he’s wearing a thick pair of glasses Dean has never seen before. It’s a good look on him, even with his face scrunched together.

Dean shakes his head. “I don’t even know,” he mutters. Castiel sighs heavily and takes another step forward.

“Dean, enough already,” he says, pushing up his glasses and rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “This has to end, this stupid competition. You win, ok? I’m done. This isn’t fun anymore for me. I was just doing this for Claire and now… now she won’t even talk to me! I can’t…It’s not worth it.” Castiel’s shoulders sink in defeat, making Dean feel like even more of a jerk. He groans and rises to his feet.

“You right,” he grumbles. “This is fucking dumb. This is all… _Fucking David’s_ fault!” Castiel’s eyes narrow at Dean.

“Who’s David?” he asks.

“My ex-wife’s husband,” Dean admits. “I guess he’s big on decorations or something, does it every year. My kids love it.”

“Is that…?” Castiel waves his hand toward Dean’s house. “Is that why you’ve done all of this?” Dean nods reluctantly with a bitter smile.

“This will be my first Christmas with them in three years. I just wanted…” Dean trails off and slumps down into the snow. “I just wanted to show I could do better than him.” Castiel frowns and takes a seat next to Dean on the ground.

“We’re kind of in the same boat I guess,” he mumbles. Dean turns to look at him. “Christmas was always Amelia and Claire’s thing. Last year, neither of us were feeling very festive. I… I just wanted to give this back to Claire, y’know?” Dean nods. “I think kind of fucked that up, though.” Castiel snorts sarcastically. Dean lifts a hand and rests it on his shoulder, giving it a tentative squeeze.

“Look, man, I’m really sorry about the store and the Minion thing,” Dean says. “I acted really dumb and lost my mind a little.”

“We both did,” Castiel says. He glances behind them where the speaker and stereo sit on a blue tarp. “What are you doing, anyway?”

“Uh… I don’t really know.” Dean gets up and walks to the tarp. “I was hoping to add some music to all of this. The speakers are busted, though, I think.” Castiel kneels in front of the stereo, carefully examining everything.

“Are you sure?” he asks. “Because it looks like it might be miswired.” Castiel fiddles with a few of the cords and wires, Dean watching over his shoulder as he does. He switches on the stereo and hits the play button. Castiel smiles proudly as soft holiday music flows from the speakers.

“How’d did you figure that out?” Dean asks. Castiel gives a small shrug.

“It’s what I do,” he offers. “I’m a sound engineer.”

“Really?”

Castiel nods. “Yeah.” he glances around the equipment laid out on the tarp. “You know, if you want, I might have a few extra timers. We can sync the music with a few of the lights.”

“You can do that?” Dean asks, eyes wide in disbelief.

“Yeah, sure.” A smile spreads across Dean’s face .

“Actually. I think I may have a better idea,” he says.

 

Castiel and Claire stand outside on the lawn the next evening, both bundled up tight in their warmest winter gear. The lights from the house gleam, casting multicolored reflections onto the snow. Claire bounces on her heels in the cold, rubbing her mittened hands together and trying to keep warm.

“You alright?” Castiel asks, “You need me to grab you another pair of gloves or-”

“It’s fine, Dad,” She says, giving him a grateful look. “I’ll be alright.” Castiel smiles at her. It had taken a lot of pleading and a special offer of Five Guys for dinner to get Claire back on speaking terms with him. She was aloof, but not much more so than usual; at least she was giving Castiel a chance to talk to her.

Castiel clears his throat hesitantly. “Claire, I really want to apologize,” he begins.

“I told you, Dad,” she gives an exasperated sigh. “It’s fine. Really.”

“No, it’s not.” Castiel shakes his head. “I got carried away with all of... _this_.” he gestures toward the house. “I acted like an ass and I embarrassed you in the middle of the store.” Claire looks up at him, her large blue eyes so much like his own.

“You really did,” she says somberly. Castiel nods in agreement.

“Yeah, I know,” he replies. “I wanted Christmas to be amazing this years and I almost ruined it. My behavior was unacceptable and I am sorry.” Claire nods as she considers his words.

“You don’t have to forgive me,” he continues. “I don’t expect that or anything, but I wanted-” Castiel is cut off by a pair of arms wrapping around his chest.

“Thank you,” Claire says, adding a tight little squeeze. “Thank you for that.” Castiel hugs her back, mumbling a “you’re welcome.” She releases her hold.

“Why are we out here, anyway?” she asks, a white puff of air rising as she blows on her hands.

“I have a surprise for you.” Castiel grins  and Claire’s expression drops.

“Oh God, Dad, please don’t tell me it’s more lights,” she begs. Castiel holds up his hands defensively.

“This is something different… Kind of. I promise that you’ll like this.” Claire doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t say anything either. Castiel glances up and down the street, searching for headlights. “We’re just waiting on some guests.”

“Guests?” Claire’s brow furrows. “Who?” Before he can answer, a growl from an engine cuts through the quiet of  the cul-de-sac and the headlights of Dean’s car shine down the street as it turns the corner. Castiel and Claire watch as a massive, black car slows and pulls into the Winchester’s driveway.

“Sorry, we’re late,” Dean says, stepping out of the car. “Traffic, man. Some people have no idea how to drive in the winter.” Sam steps out of the passenger seat onto the icy driveway, followed by two young girls roughly Claire’s age: one tall and willowy with long, strawberry blond hair, the other smaller with thick dark hair and a precocious smile. As soon as they see both Dean and Castiel’s houses, their eyes widen, the smaller girl’s mouth shaping into a perfect “O.”

“Oh my God, Dad!,” the taller one says. “What is all of this?”

“This is amazing!” The smaller girl’s shrieks, hopping up and down in excitement.

“Girls, c’mon. There is someone I want you to meet.” He leads them across the snowy yard to where Castiel and Claire are standing. “Cas, Claire, these are my daughters, Emma and Amara.” Both girls give short waves hello, “Girls, this is Mr. Novak and Claire.”

“You can just call me, Castiel,” he says, as he shakes both the girl’s hands. “It’s very to meet you both. Your father has told me a great deal about you.” Castiel doesn’t miss the curious look from Claire in response to that.

“Well, now that we’re all here, should we get started?” Dean claps his hands and rubs them together. Castiel produces a remote out of his pocket and hands it to him. “You got the camera ready, Sam?” Castiel turns around to see Sam ready with his phone pointed at the houses.

“Let’s do this,” Dean says, dramatically hitting a button on the remote. Instantly, the lights on both houses go out.

“Dad?” Claire asks, “What going-” Her words are cut off by a guitar riff and a rhythmic cymbal beat. Lights on both houses flash on and off with the beat as a cacophony of voices start shouting out “Thunder!” over the music. With each shout, all the lights pulse in time with the beat. The lights grow brighter and the displays come to life as Brian Johnson’s voice kicks.

Castiel tears his eyes away from the light show to watch Claire, who is in utter shock. Both Emma and Amara’s faces are broken by wide smiles, Amara holding her hands to her face in glee. Dean glances over at Cas, shooting him a toothy grin just as the lead guitar comes in, cueing the lights nestled in all of the trees to come on.

As soon as Brian Johnson crows “You’ve been Thunderstruck!”, both yards seem to explode in light, the movement and transition of the everything blending into a single visual display.

The two families stand there, mesmerized by the lights and music. Castiel finds himself bobbing his head along to the music. The kids dancing along as well, their eyes still glued to the show before them. Castiel notices Dean mouthing along with the words enthusiastically. Castiel isn’t surprised; the song was his choice, afterall.

The two of them had worked through the night setting up the light show and syncing their decorations. It had been tedious, freezing work, but Dean had kept him entertained with stories about his daughters, his car, anything to distract from the cold. Castiel thought his fingers might freeze off as he wired the sound system, but seeing the look on everyone’s faces made it worthwhile.

As they reach the final chorus, The show goes wild. Castiel has to shield his eyes from the brightness. He worries they might be bothering his neighbors, but when he looks back behind him, he sees most of the neighborhood is gathered in the street, watching with the same wide-eyed expressions.

With the final scream of “Thunderstruck!” the lights begin to fade, the original flashing lights slowing in time with the guitar riff that opened the song. With the closing blast, everything goes dark. There are two seconds of silence before the gathered crowd erupts in applause and cheers. Dean and Cas both grin and wave to everyone before turning back to their daughters.

“So, what did-” Dean can’t even finish with both girls chatting wildly at him, babbling in excitement. Castiel looks down at Claire, who just shakes with silent laughter.

“Oh my God!” she says breathlessly. “Dad! When…? How did you…?”

“Last night,” Castiel says. “Dean and I talked for a bit and decided to work together.” Claire glances from the him to the house and back, her expression total disbelief.

“You did that last night?” She gawps, shaking her head in disbelief. “Dad… That was incredible,”

“So was that better than David’s?” Dean asks.

“That kicked David’s house’s ass!” Emma shouts.

“Language, young lady,” Dean admonishes, “but thank you.” He looks past the girls toward Sam. “Did you get everything on video?”

“Sure did,” Sam says, holding up his phone.

“Good, because I don’t think my utility bill could take another hit like that,” Dean nods toward his house. The crowd in the street begins to dissipate and return to their own homes. Dean and Sam grab the girls’ bags from the trunk of the car and carry them toward the front door of the house.

“C’mon, you two. Let’s get inside before you freeze.” he says. “I think pizza and ‘Die Hard’ are in order.”

“‘Die Hard’ isn’t a Christmas movie,” Emma argues. Dean shakes his head, muttering under his breath about “kids these days.” Castiel and Claire turn to walk back to their own house, when Dean calls out his name.

“Cas! Hey!” Dean set the bag down on the top step and jogs across the yard toward them. “Would you two like to join us? Pizza? Movies?” Castiel glances at his daughter, who shrugs and nods.

“Yeah, that sounds great, Dean,” he says. Claire joins the other girls as they discuss their favorite parts of the show arms waving wildly. Before he can make it to the door, though,  Dean grabs onto Castiel’s sleeve, holding him back.

“Hey, Sam,” Dean calls out, “Can you call in the pizza order? You know what I like. I just got to talk to Cas really quick.” Sam raises a curious eyebrow at his brother, but nods and disappears inside the house.

“Look.” Dean turns to face Castiel. “I just want to say thank you. I literally wouldn’t have been able to do this without you. I know you’re probably beat tired. I’m tired, but this…This was incredible.”

“My pleasure, Dean” Castiel replies with a sincere smile. “I feel like I should thank you as well-”

“I haven’t done anything,” Dean chuckles, “outside of being a jackass... I’m sorry for that by the way. Again.” Castiel gives a soft laugh.

“Well, thank you, anyway, at least for inviting us over,” he offers.

“You guys are welcome anytime,” Dean says. There is a long moment of silence and Castiel catches himself watching Dean’s face and the way dimples form at his cheeks when he smiles. Dean’s eyes dart down to his lips before meeting his eyes once more, his pupils large and dark. A familiar surge of panic creeps back up over Castiel. On impulse he moves forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Dean’s lips. He feels Dean tense beneath him, frozen, and instantly draws back as a wave of regret crashing over him.

“My apologies, Dean,” he mumbles, his voice shaking. “I misread the signals. I am very unfamiliar with flirting and Claire’s magazines aren’t the best source for information or-” Dean’s lips cut him off, kissing him more fervently than before. Icy, strong hands cup Castiel’s face, a callused thumbs brushing over the stubble along his jaw. Castiel’s fingers clench at the edges of Dean’s jacket, grounding him as he melts against the heat of Dean’s lips. Castiel’s eyes slip closed and Dean’s tongue slips past his own. He tastes of big red gum and vanilla chapstick and it only makes Castiel more frantic in his kissing. He presses into Dean, desperate for some sort of closeness, despite the layers of clothing between.

A trio of soft giggles floats through the air, breaking the moment. Castiel and Dean separate to see Emma, Amara and Claire watching from doorway. Dean clears his throat awkwardly and takes a reluctant step back.

“We should probably…”

“Yeah,” Castiel agrees, following Dean into the house. As he steps inside and removes his shoes, he catches Claire smirking at him.

“What?” he asks.

“Do I need to give you the talk about boys,” She asks coyly. Castiel gives her an annoyed look.

“Watch your tongue, young lady,’ he warns, “or you’ll never see that eye pencil  again.”

“You wouldn’t,” Claire says, her eyes widening.

“Try me,” Castiel counters with a playful nudge. Claire gives him an affectionate eye roll as they follow the Winchesters into the kitchen.

 


End file.
